Born Into Primality
by Buckmane
Summary: Some people give in to their fear, despair, their lost hope whilst others, perhaps of a stronger heart, see the world with a cup half full with a look for adventure round every little curve ball thrown their way. - This is the story of one almost lost to the cursed darkness that overtook a city.
1. Chapter One: Fleet of Foot

A/N: This is a story about my Hunter on Argent Dawn, this is his backstory, started totally off the fly. Hope you'll enjoy

As usual, I own nothing of Warcraft save for the character Buckmane

_Prologue_

Some people give in to their fear, despair, their lost hope whilst others, perhaps of a stronger heart, see the world with a cup half full with a look for adventure round every little curve ball thrown their way. It could be enough to make one sick with rage, in many ways to see how people can always seem to find the smallest positive thing out of a really bad situation. It's an insidious kind of thinking, one that most can often under-appreciate. You also find those who are just, well, neutral to a fault, never reacting emotionally to anything. People react in different ways, different strokes for different folks… isn't that what your grandmother told you, when you were but a child?

There are times when there is everything you want to do, fight or scream, push or turn tail but you just can't. No matter how hard you try to push against the odds, no matter how much you fight back, nothing goes the way you want, and every time you do something, it pushes that dream of hope further away. However, no one told them that trying to shut the demons out with a wall or fighting fire with fire was not going to help them at all.

But then, perhaps every Gilnean knew it anyway, there was just no choices left open. Or so they had thought

_Chapter 1 ; Fleet of Foot_

It was a decently sunny day in the land of Gilneas as Thorsten moved to the stables. He was the son of the local butcher, a family business as most businesses were. They had a decent sized farmstead where they raised and bred cattle, pigs and horses with enough acres of land for them to freely roam. They believed that the meat of the cattle and pigs tasted better if the animals were given a better lifestyle. Thorsten wasn't really feeling the warmth that the sun gave into the earth and its subjects. Everything just seemed eternally cold. The wall that King Greymane had erected on the borders of Gilneas to protect it from outside threats and problems stood proud against the backdrop of the landscape that surrounded him. A walled city inside a wall.

Thorsten held no real patience for the nobles but he was proud of his people and he was proud to be Gilnean. He would fight for his country and he did so by providing the finest cuts to feed the Gilnean people. An army never got anywhere without its stomach being fed continuously.

He walked past the training paddock and paused hesitantly before he stared at it with a little of forlorn hope and sadness. He had lost one of his best friends in this paddock. A friend of whom he had been considering asked for her hand in marriage that same afternoon. He could never forget that day as much as he wanted to believe that it was some kind of cruel dream or joke. He wished so many times that she hadn't been there to be hurt, that he had taken her somewhere else or hadn't known her at all. Alyna had been the most beautiful thing in Thorsten's existence and the only things that came a close second in his life were the horses he bred.

The Gilnean closed his eyes, picturing her hair and her eyes, trying to recall the sound of her voice. He shook his head. He could never forget her face but her laughter seemed to be a thing of the past. Maybe he would remember one day. He sighed and carried on, there were animals to feed and stalls to muck out. Never the most enjoyable of daily tasks but Thorsten didn't mind. It meant he could get away from the brat next door, that kid never seemed to stop bawling its eyes out. It always drove him up the wall and he always had to get out of the house otherwise he had a feeling it would not end well for either of them.

There was a stillness to the air that seemed foreign. The crows still cawed and the horses and cattle were still braying in the field, but there was an underlying tone to them that didn't sit right with the Gilnean. They knew something wasn't right and they continued like it for the rest of that day. It was only when the sun vanished and the night sky began to cloud over with a particularly bright moon that everything had come to pass.

The war against the undead had been taxing, more demand had been placed upon resources and that meant there were half as much livestock he tended to than normal. Meat was needed for food, their hides for clothes and armour, horses needed to cart other resources and men around to different locations near the wall. It was a difficult time for many a Gilnean. Thorsten was still out in the paddock about to head back home for the night, his shirt thick with sweat from working the day. He heard something growl behind him that made him pause and look behind him, wary of what it was. It couldn't be Percival, the hound was always close to the house begging for the scraps and attention. The mutt was generally useless. It wasn't Brumus either, he wasn't old enough yet to be out with his proposed master. That and the growl was all wrong for a mastiff. It was deeper, throatier and far more primal. Goosebumps rose along his arms as his heart beat faster within his barrel-like chest.

There was only one thing it could be. Thorsten's eyes widened with fear and horror.

He turned as the beast leapt for him, its hands with sharp claws extending for the Gilnean's shoulders with an open jaw of sharp pointed teeth hungry for the man's blood. Thorsten vaguely heard someone shouting and crying as man and beast fell, colliding into the ground. It was all that Thorsten could do was to hold the worgen's drooling maw away from his face and neck, gripping at the ragged fur with strength borne out of fear and desperation. He realised how bad things truly were out beyond the wall, and for the first time in his life Thorsten realised that perhaps shutting themselves off from the rest of the world was not the brightest idea after all. No one would come to the aid of those who had shut themselves away from the rest of those that had once been an Alliance of nations.

He growled back as he held his quarter though he was only just able to keep the jaws from ripping a hole into his neck. Without warning, he heard the shot and then the yelp as the projectile found its target. The beast slumped to one side, its head a mashed mess of fur and brains.

Thorsten held his breath before he squirmed out from beneath the foul creature. This was not how it was meant to be. These things were supposed to go after the undead, that they would ignore human life by Arugal's hand. He was helped up by his father with one arm, his shotgun brandished in the other as they stared down at the beast. Both men peered then towards the forest that grew beyond their farm inside the wall's confines with wary expressions.

"They haven't held the line," was a brusque response from his father, Bastiaan.

"But.. they said they had this handled?" Thorsten replied, his voice betraying his emotions as he peered back at the beast that had so nearly claimed him. It was black and grey with scars that spoke of its age. Some were old and others new. It was difficult to remember that it used to be like him. Once.

They both stilled as they heard a howl break through the silver barked trees of the forest and Bastiaan held his shotgun properly now that Thorsten had his own two feet again. Horse, cattle and pig went forgotten as both moved to leave their fields and headed back to their homestead where his mother had been left with their two mastiffs, Percival and Brumus. Only, they didn't manage to get that far. The growls behind them made them both halt in their run and turn in trepidation.

Bastiaan gave a fierce yell of anguish as he managed to shoot one of the worgen down but could not shift the barrel of his gun to kill the other in time before it barrelled into his son. He watched with a parental kind of horror as arms and legs entangled themselves in the struggle to stay alive or to feast. With the pair scrabbling about on the ground, he could not fire without fearing to hit his son. Blood poured from a vicious bite as Thorsten's hand finally found the a rock roughly embedded into the ground. Bastiaan watched aghast at the wound the worgen had torn into his son's neck as the Gilnean beat the beast's face with the sharp rock in hard thumps. The worgen paused in its struggle against the man beneath, its maw darkened by the human blood and peered upwards at Bastiaan as the older man fired his shot. Like before, the worgen fell, struck in the head in a gooey bloody mess but the damage was done.

His one and only son was now infected.


	2. Chapter Two: The Beginning of the End

Welcome to chapter two for this story. Sorry it took so long.

As usual, DISCLAIMER: I own nothing except for original characters

Read and review!

The worgen had come over the wall and through the forest much more quickly than most had even become to realise. They had turned on their masters, their feral nature too large and too wild for one man to have controlled alone. Bastiaan's face soured at the thought. They should have known better than to mess with forces they hardly understood. They could be heard through the silver-barks of the forest in the north, their growls and howls chilling him to the bone. With his son on the ground trying to hold his wound together, Bastiaan knew he had a decision to make as to what was to be done. He was absolutely terrified but he was there for Thorsten. He had to be, the boy was his only son and heir. With all the evil in the world, family was the sole thing that kept hope alive and that was important to any parent.

He took precious seconds to eye the landscape for worgen too close for comfort before he helped Thorsten to quickly wrap the shoulder with Bastiaan's over-shirt. The journey back to their house was a long one, their fields were by no means small. The cattle and horses brayed loudly in their paddocks and were nigh on threatening to stampede. There was a hunger that lay heavy in the air and both Gilnean's could not fault their livestock for being scared. They were too. They weren't soldiers, paladins or any sort of knights. They both might be able to handle a gun or a bow but they weren't trained for any sort of real combat. Bastiaan held Thorsten up as they headed back, their step frustrated with a want for haste hampered by Thorsten's wound and subsequent blood loss.

"Y-you should leave me, Pa..." Thorsten breathed out, wincing heavily as they moved.

"Never, my son!" Bastiaan replied and readjusted his grip as they continued on down the hill towards their homestead. Bastiaan Buckmane was not the type of man who left a man behind, much less that of his own kin and blood.

Bastiaan would readily sacrifice his own life for that of Thorsten's even though he knew that Thorsten could eventually succumb to what fate the worgen's bite would present. The bite itself hadn't looked normal... and the rumours that had flung around the local town had not made him feel any more confident. Had the creature not knocked Thorsten down so hard, he knew the lad could probably have gotten back by under his own weight. As it was, that was not a possibility. Any time the boy tried to get his own footing, he almost collapsed if not for his father's help.

Thorsten had been bitten many times in the past and he had known he was like to many times over again in his future. It was a natural hazard of his occupation. He had been bitten by horse and dog, it didn't stop him from being able to help them in return. Those had been painful but not like this. The bite felt more like a snake's bite than that of the canine-like creature that had driven its jaws into him. It was painful and was there was a dull ache that sank and plagued into his muscles and bones that he had not felt in the initial bite.

Father and son continued on down the pastures with the Worgen on their backs in the forests behind. Their treads were quick, heavy and ungainly as they pressed on, a father's stubbornness and will to ensure the life of his son forefront on his mind.

"Kayla! Light... Kayla!" Bastiaan's yell carried easily towards their homestead and sure enough, a woman's head poked out of the doorway. Her face was first that of confusion before the howls that broke the silence of the still air gave her the reason she was searching for and her expression was quick to change to fright and concern.

Her hands went to her mouth when she saw her son and the blood that ran down the front of his tunic. As soon as they got close, she helped bring Thorsten inside and shut the door, bolting it. Percival whined from his place at the bottom of the stairs as their one and only son was taken to the living room. Kayla rushed about the house grabbing all the bandages, cloths and water she had quick access to. Bastiaan had pushed everything off the dining room table before helping his son to lie on it, telling the boy to shut up and do as he was told when Thorsten protested amidst his pains.

As Bastiaan sought to fortify the windows against the invasion, Kayla busied herself with dealing with her son's wound. She pushed Thorsten's head down several times when he tried to resist as she removed the bloodied shirt. She tried to not look at the wound too much but the wound was big and was changing from the natural tan to something far more disturbing. She worked on the dressage quickly and looked at her husband. Neither of them knew if Thorsten would make it but they both had to hope that he would.

They both jumped and stared as the door banged against its hinges, almost being flung right away from the frame but the numerous bolts that Bastiaan had locked held against the weight. Both blinked before Kayla looked back down to Thorsten and tried to hurry in what she was doing as Bastiaan continued to bolster what he could of their modest abode.

It was needed too as Kayla struggled to hold back the tide of blood that escaped the wound made by the feral worgen that had attacked her only boy. A cry by a bedroom door made Bastiaan turn to console Thorsten's younger sister of four years, Beryl. It was a little while longer before Kayla managed to stem the bleeding and make a dressing for the wound in such a way the joint could still be used with some difficulty without losing more blood in the process.

"We need to get out of here!"  
"The trap door. Quickly! Beryl!"

The little girl blinked, her little hand clutched her little roughly-treated teddy tightly as she nodded fearfully. Her eyes were tearing up as she went to tug and pull at the rug that kept the trapdoor hidden from sight. It was there in times of such need. Bastiaan never believed in not preparing for the worst, but the worst he had expected was nowhere as close to what they might face now. She cried with the effort of lifting the trap door as Bastiaan retrieved his rifle and moved to Thorsten. Kayla helped him to get Thorsten to sitting position, drawing his legs over the side but when they tried to get him to stand, he placed his hand around his father's wrist with a strength that made his father wince.

"Leave me..."  
"Son, no," Kayla shook her head and pulled him on but he refused.  
"No ma... I'm bit... If they can't stop them then every minute you waste here is going to be more dangerous. Just, go! While you still can,"

Thorsten was moved by their need to try and get him out, to save him but whatever this bite was doing to him, he knew it couldn't be good. It was becoming far more painful by the minute and his muscles felt is if they were on fire that doubled tenfold at every movement. The flesh wound felt tight and hot, as if he was being stabbed by a hot poker than the true nature of it all. It was nothing like anything he had known before. He tried to fight it but this wasn't some fox he could chase off or a belligerent bull, this was something entirely foreign to him. Something from which he could not escape. _Light, I did not know a bite could feel this bad..._

Thorsten winced as his father raised his hand in a sharp movement, the palm catching the back of his raven-haired skull with some clout. His father rarely raised a hand to anyone except when in dire need or when drunk, which was an occasion very rare and few between. He reached to rub the spot where he'd been struck and looked to his father who gave him that stern look that brooked no further argument on the matter. If they said they were taking Thorsten down past the trapdoor with them, than he knew that's precisely what he was to do. He supposed they couldn't stomach the sound of a bunch of feral worgen ripping their only son apart and he couldn't blame them. He knew he'd be the same if it had happened to his parents or his little sister.

Still, he was forced to accept his father's aid as the bite mark flared again; the howls, scratching and slams of the doorway hastening their way to the trapdoor. He watched his mother descend bringing Beryl with her. The girl hid behind her mother as husband and wife somehow between them negotiated Thorsten down the small rings of a worn ladder. Bastiaan paused only to turn and reach up to haul the trapdoor close. None of them, except for little Beryl who was too young to understand the danger completely, were naïve to believe it would stop the worgen altogether but they prayed it would give them enough time to reach the end of the tunnel and get out.

With each step as it had been on the fields it grew harder on Thorsten to continue and he was glad that his mother and sister were a little way ahead of him and his father. The pain wracked through his body like wildfire and Bastiaan wished he could help his boy. However this was a magic far beyond his understanding, beyond anyone's understanding. He was painfully aware that he was losing quite a lot from his life and set to only lose more if the fates were against them. He hoped not. Family was everything, as long as his family unit was complete, that was all that matter.

The tunnel was dark, damp with grim and water that had trickled through the earth and rock over time, it was an old tunnel and not the only one in the city. There were a fair few that had been made for times such as these. Bastiaan frowned, they would have to go closer towards Gilneas' capital before they could branch off towards the sea. Any chances of escape through the Wall were surely cut off by now he thought as he carried his son's weight against him. They moved slowly, the howls of frustrated feral beasts echoed down from the trapdoor. Beryl cried out in fright clutching her teddy closer to her as they hurried along as quickly as they could, her mother herding her before the two men.

"Nearly there…" Bastiaan murmured, daring to not speak any louder should the beasts behind them hear and hurry their pace. Before long they reached the end of the tunnel. They had to get out of the tunnel to head for the next one heading out of the city towards the city which was a little walk away. Bastiaan and Thorsten waited with baited breath as Kayla carefully checked to see if the coast was clear, lifting the trapdoor with a low creak in the hinges. She waited nervously and then nodded, opening it fully and quickly getting out before turning round to lean down and lift her daughter up free of the tunnel. Bastian followed soon after and both parents had to help Thorsten out of the tunnel. He sat breathing deeply as they shut the trapdoor and barricaded it the best they could with what they had around them

He swallowed hard as he looked about the city, a place he only really come to on market days, and Thorsten shook his head. The city was awash with screams and howls, the sound of cannons and an army trying to defend against a rabid enemy was thick in the air. Beryl squeaked and threw herself in her brother's arms sobbing into his chest. He looked at her and brushed her hair back, he hoped that despite whatever happened to him that she would make it out alive as he wrapped his own around her return. He knew he could stay with them for much longer. He was a danger to their safety and he didn't know entirely what this bite was doing to him. There was so much uncertainty it made his head spin just trying to think about it.

"Don't cry, little sister. You've got to be strong, for Ma and Pa," he breathed, holding her close because he didn't know when he would get the chance ever again. Bastiaan's rule on family had passed into him and he was loathe to let her go, to let any of them go even though he knew he may have no choice but to. He held his eyes shut briefly as the wound flared again and he felt a little hand on his face causing him to reopen his eyes. Beryl nodded at him and kissed his nose in that way that said she could make everything better. He smiled and nodded back, proud she had such a strong little heart and mind. stronger than him some days.

"You gonna be okay! You gotta!" she nodded with a new-found insistence, even as their mother coaxed her away from Thorsten's arms.

"Up you get, son. This isn't over yet," his father intoned, lifting his only son to his feet upon legs that felt as though they were lead.

Thorsten had no doubts it wasn't over yet. from the way this bite felt, it had only just begun.

Please review.


End file.
